Archibald Barclay

“ Now you will need to take care of yourself; for they will not care to stab you, if they could have an occasion. I need not ask you if you will take abundance of father-meat with you. You are the wrong hand to forget that. I dare say you will take five or six barrels of sea-biddies and three or four pieces of salt beef, and plenty of smelts to season your gruel, not forgetting something to tickle in your throat. ”

“ I will assure you that his feet were worth two pair of hands to him: for if I could have gotten hold of him, ill luck sit in my hands, if I should not have cropped his ears, that he should have been known for a thief all the days of his life. And so, you see, I goes down straight to the colt, and it was that dark that I would not have known what it was, but there I finds two little pokes filled full of white wool, upon a raw hide lying above a bundle of heather stalks, that he had been fetching home to sweep the chimneys of Skerpa. ”

“ I must not forget to tell you to hold out of my way if you be your own friend, for I have a quarrel to settle with you, and if I get hands upon you, I will perhaps give you a twist that you will not be the better of. ”

“ I row’d Steaggie bak an foar trow dis soss till I toucht he wiz mestlee smoar’d, an ta tell dee da trùthe, I sud a bùn shokkit meesell, fur ne modrat stamak kùd staand sek an a stink—an dan I whatt him an gùd ma weigh.
I rolled Steaggie back and forward through this puddle till I thought he was mostly smothered, and to tell you the truth, I should have been choked myself; for no moderate stomach could stand such an a smell: and then I left him and went my way. ”

“ They are telling me that you are going away to an unknown place, where there are nothing but negroes, that go mother-naked, filthy brutes! and do not believe in our Bible: ill luck to their faces! they want no impudence. ”

“ Twartree deys sinsyne, wir Jonie wrett me tree or fower lynes wi Andru Hey, itt wiz kummin dis weigh whidder or no, an se he tuik hit wi him. Heez a fyne sheeld dat Andru, gude lukk sitt i his fes—an sek an a boorlie man az heez growan tù an wid be ower weel faard gin hitt wiz na fore yun busks o’ hare it he heaz apun his fes. O dwyne yun fasin, gin hit beena da vyldest itt ivvir dere faan apun yitt. I kenna whatt itts lek, bitt am shùre itts no lek nethin kirsint. Se mith I gitt helt az I tink hit wid gluff da ful teef himsell. ”

“ I entrappit him, an tuik oot da joktalegg. “Meabee du kens na himm neddarin; yea, du mey stumse du ill viandit teef it du iz, du tocht nethin ta pit dye mark (hiz mark wiz da left lugg getskor’d behint, an da rycht lugg shùild wi a hol) apo mye steag;—nu afoar du an I sinders, nevvir mycht mee haand help ma bodie, in I dùna sett mye mark apo dee” (Wir mark wiz bead da luggs aff, bit wee hed annidder een furbye dat.) ”

“ And now you see, as I was telling you, by comes Steaggie with a pair of halters in his hand. He gives me the time of the day, and asks how is all with me. “Bravely! bravely! good fellow,” says I, “how is all with your self: I warrant you have not a smell in your horn ”

“ An dan effter aa du mistiukit hit, du leelerat brùtt—duz pitten in ee ples, “gude ta true,” in ples o’ “gùd ta tru,” an in annidder pert, duz sett doon “geegganin” in ples o’ “geegarin”—kens du no itt geegarin meenz shiftin aboot fre ples ta ples: an “da eage o’ a tyme,”—duz keepit oot “kan keep”—afoar “a man’s stamak”—deel rumble i dy stamak fur dee peans. Effter datt gin du tinks itt du kens veezable aboot grammer or properness o langeech, se mycht I tryve az duz az faar oot az Maggie Low, whinn shù klaad da stoop o’ da bēdd in ples o’ her nean rumple. ”

“ P. S. Dey sey itt Andru Nizbet, da keeng o’ Burraness, is dead—a wirtie, onnist man az evvir pat a drap o’ key orù in a ùlie kig, or hùlkie eddiran.
Gent. Mag. Vol. VI.
P.S. They say that Andrew Nesbit, the king of Burraness, is dead; a worthy honest man, as ever put a drop of strong ale in a jolly cag or portly elder. ”